The other day I was brushing my teeth in the bathroom and the lady who cleans our living area came up to me.
Rosie* is an incredibly sweet Afghan woman and the mother of five. She works here in our building seven days a week, cleaning the bathrooms, mopping the floors, carrying bottled water up three flights of stairs and huge bags of trash down those same stairs.
She looked miserable. I paused mid-brushing and smiled at her. She explained to me in her limited and broken English that she wasn’t feeling good and asked if I had medicine. I pointed to my head, throat, stomach trying to figure out what medicine would be most appropriate.
She explained she had a terrible headache and pointed to her knees and shoulders and explained she ached all over. I told her no problem and went back to my room.
I dumped a third of a large bottle of Advil into a zip locked baggie and took it back to her. She smiled and thanked me, and I held up two fingers trying to explain that you just take two at a time.
Two days later she spotted me braiding my hair in the bathroom and came up to me with the biggest smile on her face. I asked her if she was feeling better, and she enthusiastically shook her head yes. I told her I was so glad I could help, and she immediately asked me for the whole bottle.
It caught me off guard and I froze for a moment in my response. Visions of drug addicts went through my head and I panicked for a moment. For the past couple of months I’d been weighing in my mind what sort of thank you gift I could give to Rosie prior to leaving this year and hadn’t come up with the right thing.
Now here she was asking me for something and I was hesitating.
I told her I had them at the office and would bring her the bottle later. I’m not sure if she understood. Walking to work, so many selfish thoughts flooded my head. What if I got a headache and needed the Advil? What if she became addicted to those pills? Those large bottles of Advil are expensive.
I was shocked at myself, and how resistant I was. The little Exchange here sells large bottles of Advil along with numerous other American medicines. (The Afghan locals who support us are not permitted to shop in the Exchange.)
The next morning, I sought out Rosie as she pulled the trash out of each barrel to be carried downstairs and I handed her the rest of the large bottle.
I remembered on my last deployment when our ship brought aboard Somalian pirates that had been in a gun battle with our Sailors and had been very seriously wounded. The doctors aboard the ship had been amazed when they gave these guys Tylenol and it removed their pain immediately.
We underestimate the strength and reliability of our over-the-counter medications in the U.S. This was a good reminder for me.
*Rosie is not her real name in an effort to protect both she and her family.
